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At six in the morning, Michelle’s phone rang.

She asked the caller the first question that popped into her mind: “Is the baby alive?”

“Yes,” the caller said carefully, “but probably not for much longer.” The premature infant Michelle had been sitting with in the NICU had taken a turn. Doctors had already warned the parents that they could find no brain activity. Their baby girl, the physicians explained, had no hope of a normal life. Her breathing tube could come out at any time. If it did, she might die before they could replace it.

The medical charts left no room for doubt.

But Michelle has learned something after years of walking with Afghan refugee families in Clarkston, Georgia.

Charts are not the whole story.

Clarkston is home to people from nearly every nation, tribe, and language. Over 60 languages are spoken on the town’s streets.

A few years back, thousands of Afghan families arrived almost overnight.

Many came with trauma. Few arrived with the relationships they needed to thrive on the other side of the world. These families, especially the moms, had no one they could trust.

Except Michelle.

A third-generation cross-cultural witness, Michelle knows Afghanistan by heart. She speaks the language, understands the culture, and loves the people she meets. Her love has dictated her career path.

Michelle did not start as a doula. She worked in media ministry, and for many years, she served outside the U.S. When life brought her to Clarkston, she helped one pregnant woman navigate a doctor’s appointment.

That woman told two friends. Those two told two more.

Today, Michelle has been present at more than 170 births.

Even the local mosque passes along her phone number.

Why? Because when Afghan women are afraid, they need someone who will show up.

Back in the NICU, the monitors told a grim story.

The baby was gray. Her blood pressure was collapsing. She was seizing.

The neonatologist had already told the parents what was painfully obvious to everyone else: “She’s going to die.”

Michelle stood at the bedside with the baby’s parents. Having lost a child of her own years earlier, she knew what it felt like to face the inevitable but still hold onto threads of hope.

And then she prayed something bold:

“God, what about your name?”

Many refugee families were watching this case. They'd heard stories of God’s intervention. They were asking questions. Michelle was praying.

Hours later, the nurses opened the diaper. “She peed.”

Kidney failure had reversed.

The baby survived.

Atlanta’s pediatric specialists had no clear explanation.

But the local Afghan families did: Michelle’s God.

Most of us will never see Clarkston or meet an Afghan refugee.

You may never navigate a domestic crisis, or teach a young mother to drive, or translate medical instructions into Dari for a frightened refugee family like Michelle does regularly.

By supporting TMS’ Global Mission Fund, you made sure she was there.

Standing in a hospital hallway at 6:12 a.m. holding a Styrofoam cup of burnt coffee may not feel like ministry, but at TMS Global, we believe proximity changes everything.

The Word became flesh, John 1 tells us, and made His dwelling among us.

We can imitate Christ in this way: moving into the neighborhood and participating in the work of God. But we can’t do it alone. The Kingdom of God is a community effort. At TMS Global, we provide Michelle, and others like her, with the training, care, support, and strategic direction they need to stay present.

If you support TMS Global, Michelle is there because you are.

Your support of the TMS Global Mission Fund helps ensure that when cross-cultural witnesses like Michelle encounter illness, burnout, natural disasters, or challenging moments in ministry, someone has their back.

You are making it possible for someone to stand beside a baby's hospital bed, hold her mother’s hand, and pray: God, what about your name?

Miracles cannot be scheduled.

But proximity can.

Thank you for helping TMS Global remain close enough to see, serve, and speak about God.

Because when people ask, “Who is this God?” someone needs to be there to answer.